


Queens of Queens

by phenomenology



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drag Queens, Drinking, F/F, Gay Bar, M/M, Nonbinary Mollymauk Tealeaf, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25641472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phenomenology/pseuds/phenomenology
Summary: the modern era gay bar au that absolutely no one asked for except for me and my friend in our free time-or-Mollymauk owns a gay bar that hosts regular drag shows and their bar acts as the anchor for the threads the rest of the Nein weave around each other.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Fjord/Jester Lavorre, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 47
Kudos: 238





	1. curious beginnings

Putting the barbell back onto the holders with a quiet huff of exertion, Fjord ducked backwards out from under the weight and shook out his wrists. His left one still ached from working at the docks the afternoon before. Beau had wrapped it tight and firm for him before they started working out today, telling him to go easy with it for a few days. She was a damn hypocrite, and they both knew it. Regardless, Fjord had decreased the amount of plates he usually had on the barbell in an attempt to set a good example.

It ended up being a fruitless gesture. Halfway through their session, Fjord spotting Beau as she squatted twenty pounds over her max from two weeks ago, she had realized she was late for work. Fjord didn’t mind working out alone, it was just more entertaining and passed the time a little faster when she was there, too.

Sighing as he rolled out his wrist a few more times for good measure, Fjord decided to just call it a day.

As he was packing up his bag, he spotted the familiar blue hoodie that Beau always wore sitting tossed against the mirrors and forgotten. Scooping it up and tossing it overtop his bag, Fjord tugged his phone out of his pocket and sent her a quick text. 

**_Fjord_ ** _: hey you left your hoodie here_

**_Fjord_ ** _: want me to drop it off?_

Tucking his phone away again, Fjord moved to the locker rooms and dropped all his things in a locker before heading to the showers. He wasn’t in desperate need for a shower considering they hadn’t done that vigorous of a workout today, but it was routine at this point. He only remembered to check his phone for a response once he was dressed and toweling the dampness from his hair.

**_Beau_ ** _: shit I knew I forgot something_

**_Beau:_ ** _yeah could you stop at the bar and drop it off?_

**_Beau_ ** _: drinks on me if you do just don’t let the peacock know_

Snorting quietly at the last text, Fjord texted back an affirmative and got an address for the bar in response. Tucking all of his things and Beau’s hoodie into his bag, Fjord hefted it over his shoulder and made his way out of the locker room and onto the bustling streets of Queens, New York. A colorful mix of civilians walked past Fjord, and he felt a little more at ease here every time he noticed another like him among the population.

He was nowhere near old enough to remember magic, but the stories in their history books in school had been enough for a young half-Orc like himself to imagine a better world. He had once dreamt of a time when magic and gods and less sideways looks were real and present fixtures in everyday life. Fjord knew now that it was a folly dream of a child, but New York was one of the closest places on Earth to that feeling. Dense with Tieflings, Halflings, Elves, Firbolgs, Kenku, and countless other once magical races, a half-Orc like Fjord was just another passing face instead of a sore thumb.

A human woman passed by Fjord with her child, tugging the toddler closer by the hand. She shot him a dirty look as he headed for the subway entrance.

Okay, so he was a passing face to most people.

The bar Beau worked at was a five-minute subway trip and a quick walk from the gym, tucked into the homey bustle of Jackson Heights on the main boulevard. Among the throng of restaurants, gas stations, schools and homes, there perched an unassuming wooden door with an ancient deity’s symbol carved into the wood. The front window was floor to ceiling and shrouded from inside by heavy violet drapes. A tall, muscular woman sat on a stool outside the door. She had black and white hair with several intricate braids set throughout, and a leather jacket with dark fur lapels and collar to match tucked snug across her shoulders. She glanced up at Fjord’s approach, mismatched eyes giving him a quick sweep up and down as he stopped a good foot away from her. He glanced at the door she seemed to guard and then back to her piercing gaze.

“Is the bar open? I’m just here to drop something off with Beau.” Not the full truth, as he was planning on taking her up on that free drink. But dropping something off was more concise of an explanation.

The woman held out one hand, expression not changing at all. In the softest voice Fjord had ever heard, she said, “ID.”

Blinking once, Fjord’s hand moved to grab his wallet from his bag and only fumbled a little in tugging his license free. The woman gave it a cursory glance, tilted it this way and that in the dim light and then handed it back over. Fjord gave her a quiet nod of thanks as she gestured behind her for him to enter. Moving past her, the door gave a quiet squeak on the hinges; the sound lost beneath the music thrumming from the speakers and into the veins of every patron inside.

It wasn’t obscenely packed, considering it was just before nine on a Thursday night, but it was still an impressive crowd. There was a decent balance of ostentatious and raunchy fashion dispersed across the tables and bar stools, and Fjord had to admit, he was a little impressed. It took a bit of effort to force his eyes to sweep for Beau, continuously distracted by various articles of clothing that caught his attention.

After a few attempts, he found her behind the bar, a grey waistcoat immaculately fastened over a navy button up, the sleeves rolled to her elbows. Her hair pulled back into that signature topknot, Beau flashed her familiar sharp grin at the patrons currently fawning over her bartender flare. Making his way over to the sticky countertop, Fjord slid into a relatively empty slot, the stools on either side occupied, and waited for his friend to finish up her flexing for the swooning girls.

It took a couple minutes, but Beau noticed Fjord down the bar as she was cleaning out the shaker she had been using, eyes lighting with recognition. Waving graciously to the girls and collecting tips, Beau casually slid her way down to Fjord and reached over to give his shoulder a light punch in greeting.

“Hey, man!” she called over the music and the chatter. “Thanks for coming by. What can I get you for the trouble?”

Handing the hoodie over to her across the bar top, taking care to avoid letting the sleeves drag across the tacky surface, Fjord gave her a shrug. He hadn’t seen a menu of sorts anywhere, so he assumed the usual was available.

“What’s your specialty?”

Eyes sparking with delight as she tucked the hoodie away beneath the bar, Beau cracked her knuckles and reached for a clean shaker and a bottle of expensive looking vodka. Fjord already had regrets, but he didn’t stop her.

“I didn’t know you could sling drinks,” he offered instead. Fjord watched her with a hint of skepticism as she started mixing in something that looked like soda and lime and…was that a jalapeño? Her hands were deft, like with everything Fjord had ever seen her do. He had a suspicion, based on plenty of exposure, that Beau’s default setting was of a fluttering nature.

“Yeah,” Beau said easily, something in the curve of her lips when she said it looking a touch bitter. “Been doing it for a few years. The Peacock’s just hired a new bartender to replace Orna since she had to move for family reasons. Usually I only step in back here to cover shifts once a week, since I’m mostly out front with Yasha.”

“The lady in the leather jacket with the death glare?”

Beau laughed once, barking and loud as she started to rapidly shake the drink she was mixing. Her eyes shone with mirth as she gave a slight shake of her head.

“Yeah, that’s her. She’s really not that bad, just awkward as far as I can tell. She and I only bounce together on Friday nights when the crowd’s the worst, and I swear Fjord, she’s a challenge to talk to.” Beau looked a little pained and a lot wistful now, pouring out the drink into a glass with ice in it. “She’s got an _amazing_ body and those eyes…mh!”

Fjord watched her clutch a hand to her chest dramatically with only a little judgment coloring his expression. Beau seemed to either not notice or not care, because she carried on as she put the finishing touches on his drink.

“I’ve been bouncing Fridays with her for almost a year now and all I’ve got out of her is that she’s best friends and roommates with the Peacock, her favorite color is black, and that she’s strong enough to pick up three drunk dudes at once.”

Sliding the drink across the counter to Fjord, Beau tossed the shaker into the sink behind the bar and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. Raising an eyebrow at her, Fjord picked up the drink with caution and gave it a quick, curious sniff. He had to try very hard to not recoil at the near overpowering scent of liquor that all but punched him in the face.

“Sounds rough,” Fjord sympathized in a monotonous tone as he stalled, swirling the drink around a little in the glass, the ice clinking against the sides.

“It is,” Beau said around a long-suffering sigh. She gestured to the drink and quickly moved on. “Try it, you wimp. It’s not _that_ strong, just smells like it. It’s the lime that kicks up the scent.”

Giving her a look, Fjord hesitated only another heartbeat before taking a breath and daring to take a sip of whatever Beau had created for him. The liquor hit his tongue first, followed by the sweet zing of carbonation and a hint of the lime and jalapeño she had thrown in. Overall, it wasn’t bad, but Fjord wasn’t much of a drinker. Still, he lowered the glass and gave Beau an impressed look to meet the smugness she was watching him with.

“Not bad,” he granted, setting the glass down as he slid onto the barstool beside him that had been vacated.

“Thanks, man,” she grinned, sharp and proud. She gestured to the crowded floor behind him and spoke over the music with a glint to her eye. “Stick around a while longer and there’ll be some entertainment, too.”

Suspicious, but knowing that she knew he had nowhere else to be, Fjord could only give her a shrug that was basically acceptance. Beau flashed him a dangerous grin and then she was off to serve a rowdy looking trio of half-Elves. Left to his own devices, Fjord continued to slowly work away at his drink, eyes scanning over the various people crowded around the tables throughout the cozy restaurant. Admittedly, Fjord would never have pegged this place as being popular from the outside, but the inside was unique in decoration from what he could tell through the dim lighting.

“Here by yourself, handsome?”

Glancing to the side at the voice by his shoulder, Fjord blinked with surprise as he found himself face to face with a purple Tiefling. Their grin was full of sharp teeth and solid red eyes glimmered with mischief and interest alike. They wore a loose white shirt with a plunging neckline, and Fjord could have sworn there was something about the Tiefling’s chest that gave him pause. But realizing both that the flashing lights weren’t helping, and that he was all but staring at their chest without responding, Fjord was quick to look back at their face.

“Uhm, yeah.”

_Stupid._

The Tiefling raised an eyebrow at him but chuckled with mirth, clearly not put off by Fjord’s awkward honesty.

“You’ve never been here before.”

It wasn’t a question, and they said it with far too much conviction that Fjord knew he couldn’t pretend it was, even if he wanted to. So instead, he offered a shrug and took another sip of his drink. He could feel the heat on his cheeks, but he hoped that the dim light and colorful flashes were enough to hide it.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” the Tiefling said, waving a hand dismissively between them. “We’re a close knit community in here, so it’s easy to spot an unfamiliar face. Just wondering if you’ve wandered in or if you actually know what you’re in for.”

“What I’m—?” Fjord started to ask, before the sound of a microphone giving a burst of static over the speakers among the music cut him off.

“Hello everyone!” a cheerful, pitchy tone drawled over the microphone, drawing Fjord’s eyes away from the Tiefling and towards the makeshift stage at the back of the bar. There stood a figure with pale green skin, balancing a wig of obnoxious size on their head and sporting eye make-up so bold, Fjord had no trouble discerning it even from across the bar. He was so preoccupied by taking in the glittering jewels and loud accessories, that the only other words he caught over the music and cheering were _drag_ and _performance_.

Sliding a look to the Tiefling beside him, Fjord raised an eyebrow their way and asked over the din, “drag performance?”

The Tiefling gave him a look, grin dipping a little as they asked, “you do know you’re in a gay bar, right love?”

Fjord felt like a damn fool.

“I do now.”

The Tiefling laughed, loud and amused, as Fjord caught Beau’s shit-eating grin from down the bar. He spared her enough attention to flip her off before focusing back on the Tiefling who was speaking again.

“I’m Mollymauk, by the way. Mollymauk Tealeaf, but everyone here just calls me Molly. If you don’t mind my asking, how’d you end up in a gay bar without knowing it?”

Fjord reached out and took the hand extended his way, giving it a firm shake before saying, “I’m Fjord. And your bartender Beau over there is my gym buddy. I dropped by to give her something and she somehow roped me into sticking around a while without giving me any details.”

“Yeah, that sounds like her.” Molly’s grin was sharp and dangerous, but their words were laced with the begrudging fondness one often could associate with having a sibling. “She’s good at picking reliable company, but she’s also a little shit.”

“You know her well, then?”

“More than I care to admit most days,” Molly chuckled. “I’m her boss, as well as begrudging friend.”

Fjord had to stop himself from saying ‘you’re the Peacock?’ out loud. Instead he cleared his throat in an attempt to not laugh and averted his gaze.

“If you aren’t comfortable with this kind of atmosphere, you can always come back during our lunch hours,” Molly offered, watching Fjord carefully. They had likely mistaken his surprise with discomfort. “Much more of a chill vibe then, when we aren’t packed in with a bunch of drunks.”

Not bothering to correct Molly, he said, “Is that an invitation or a suggestion?”

“Maybe it’s both,” Molly said, wiggling their brows with a suggestive grin. Fjord felt a little flushed and quietly blamed it on the fact that he was halfway through his drink.

“But in all seriousness, Fjord,” Molly continued, leaning in a little to be heard over the pounding music as a drag queen strut through the crowd. “You’re welcome back anytime. Not every queer individual is a fan of loud music and being absolutely blasted. This is a judgment free zone, safe space only.”

Not bothering to correct Molly and tell them he wasn’t actually queer, Fjord simply smiled at the Tiefling gratefully. Taking another swig of his drink, Fjord bid Molly farewell and waved down the bar to Beau as he slipped out. Pausing just outside the door, closing it carefully behind him, Fjord took a steadying breath of cool night air. The music was duller from outside, mingling a lot more peacefully with the sounds of Queens at night.

He and Yasha exchanged a quiet look, something subtly knowing in her stoic eyes, before Fjord was walking off into the night.

* * *

Caleb looked down at the scribbled note that Veth had shoved at him right before his lunch break had ended earlier that day. Her handwriting scrawled and slanted on the crinkled paper, but the address matched the one on the door and the name of the bar and restaurant hanging above it. Tucking the scrap of paper away into one of his many coat pockets, Caleb hefted his bag a little higher on his shoulder and pushed into the warm interior of _The Moon and Mirror_.

It was cozy, a little on the dim side, and the décor was intricate in its simplicity. A tapestry hung on one wall between two tall windows, a vibrant red backdrop to multicolored symbols and patterns woven into the fabric. Each table had similar red fabric draped across the tops, lacking patterns but vibrant nonetheless. Every tabletop sported its own antique looking lamp that shed light in a homey beacon of warmth. There was one enormous glass window at the front—heavy, rich drapes held back on either side, velvet and violet in their bundles—that let the late Friday afternoon light spill across the worn wooden floor.

Behind the bar, a lavender skinned Tiefling with solid red eyes and wavy hair glanced up at Caleb’s entrance, an eyebrow lifting appraisingly. Intricate, colorful tattoos curled up one side of their neck and continued out from under their sleeve on one side, curving a serpentine trail down to their hand. They seemed to be in the middle of wiping down the surface, cleaning away the evidence of whatever had happened last night to leave such a sticky residue near plastered to the polished wood.

“Can I help you?” the Tiefling asked, voice laced with a light accent and sweet, deceivingly friendly.

“I am uh…here to see Veth?” Caleb was not nervous, but his statement came out like a question. The wound tension he hadn’t recognized in his shoulders released only when a look of recognition flashed across the Tiefling’s features. They turned as if to call back into the kitchen, silver bobbles clinking against pierced horns, before a quiet clatter was followed by hurried footsteps. From around the far end of the bar, a tiny figure slid to a stop, bright eyes latching onto Caleb.

“You made it!” Veth, his rather chaotic but loveable Halfling friend, came trotting over eagerly as Caleb knelt to greet her. Her calloused, sturdy hands cupped his sallow cheeks as Veth leaned up on tiptoes to plant a motherly kiss to Caleb’s forehead. Button bracelets clattered with familiar charm around her wrists as she pat Caleb’s shoulders, taking stock of him and beaming all the while.

“Grab a seat,” Veth instructed, voice giddy. “The chef’s just finishing up some lunch for us, my treat.”

Nodding silently, he watched her scurry back off into the kitchen before standing and glancing once again at the Tiefling at the bar. They were watching with no small degree of curiosity and fondness. Caleb felt mildly warm under the scrutiny and deflected by gesturing to the numerous tables around him.

“Are any of these taken, or may I help myself?”

The Tiefling gave a wide gesture, a flourish to the motion and something a little less deceivingly friendly in the curve of their grin.

“Be my guest, friend.”

Giving the bartender a quiet nod of acknowledgment, Caleb slung the strap of his bag over the back of a chair and tucked himself into the worn seat of the old wooden chair. His gaze roamed around, taking in the eclectic gathering of worn, mismatched chairs and wayward tables. Each piece seemed to have made its way here for the sole purpose of filling this restaurant. It was definitely one of the more interesting places Caleb had found himself in, and that was saying a lot for a person who had been living in New York City for near two years.

A glass of water slid on the table in front of Caleb as a body sunk gracefully into the seat across from him.

“How do you know Veth, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Caleb looked up from the glass of water and met the solid red gaze of the Tiefling bartender. He raised an eyebrow and took a moment to remain silent as he took in whatever this situation was.

“I work with her husband,” Caleb offered, somewhat vaguely.

“Ah,” the Tiefling snapped their fingers, grinning bright and easy. “You must be Caleb. Veth speaks highly of you. She says you’re very intelligent and working on a degree, yes?”

“You know a lot about me, but I know nothing about you,” Caleb shot back smoothly, keeping his hands tucked in his lap. He didn’t like being known without knowing in return. And while it charmed him to know that Veth seemed to brag about him, it was disconcerting to be staring down a stranger and not even have a name to the face.

“Yes, of course,” the Tiefling all but crooned, hand extending smoothly. “My name’s Mollymauk Tealeaf—Molly for short. I’m Mrs. Veth’s new employer.”

Caleb reached out after a brief hesitation, taking Molly’s hand to shake and finding himself concealing his surprise at how cool the Tiefling’s hand was in his own. Caleb had always heard and read that Tieflings ran noticeably warm, but Molly’s hand was rather chilled. He didn’t comment on it, choosing instead to just draw his hand back after the handshake had lasted an appropriate time.

“She’s very talented at bartending, I’m very lucky to have crossed paths with her. We’ve been scrambling a bit recently to fill the position.”

“Ja, she is very good. She’s a quick learner, too.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Molly beamed, polished fingernails tapping a random pattern against a sliver of exposed tabletop not covered by the cloth. Their solid eyes seemed to take Caleb in. Aware and uncomfortable, the human focused his attention on picking at an errant spot of ink staining the pad of his finger. He could be good with conversation when prepared, but he couldn’t be farther from ready for whatever this was. It felt like an interrogation, but read like an awkward attempt at friendly conversation.

“She’s been struggling a little with getting a job,” Caleb said before he could stop himself, overwhelmed by the awkward pressure. He always slipped up a little when he was nervous.

“Yes, well, most places aren’t too keen on hiring people with a record,” Molly said casually, their friendly expression never faltering.

“You are not most places?” Caleb asked, somewhat derisively as he glanced around the interior.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Molly’s grin was a little less friendly again, hands spreading wide as though amicable. “We’re a fine establishment, decent benefits, ordinary people making a mostly honest living. Just like anyone else in this city.”

Caleb’s somewhat suspicious countenance didn’t change and Molly laid their hands flat against the table and studied the human once more. When they spoke again, their tone was no longer that service type cheerful, instead low and intrigued.

“I thought perhaps with the way Veth spoke of you, she was the protective one in your relationship. It seems I’ve found myself mistaken.” Before Caleb could think to ask what they meant by that, Molly was continuing on. “I understand wanting to protect your own, more than you could fathom I reckon, but believe me when I say your friend will be looked after here. Our employees are family, and everyone in this family is a just a little of the right side of dangerous. She’ll fit in just fine.”

It was a few tense seconds later, Caleb scrutinizing every infinitesimal shift in Molly’s face for signs of deception, that Veth came trotting back out from behind the bar. She carried a steaming plate in each hand and placed them carefully on the table before taking a moment to pat Caleb on his knee as she smiled up at him.

Molly seemed to take that as their cue to leave, pushing to their feet and vacating the seat for Veth. Traipsing back behind the bar with a cheerful wave to Veth’s call of thanks, Molly went back to working at the stains on the bar with Caleb inspecting them.

“Caleb?” Veth’s shrill voice pulled the human back to his senses, blinking at the Halfling across from him. “Are you alright?”

“Ja,” Caleb was quick to reassure her, looking down at his food and feeling his stomach rumble. Right…lunch had been hours ago, and the sun was arching to the horizon now. He always was rather shit at keeping to a fixed schedule outside of work.

“How was your afternoon?” Veth asked after a pause in which she inspected him the way a mother would her child when she didn’t quite believe them. “Did you find that book on decoding ancient languages you were searching for?”

“Ah, not quite,” Caleb said, picking up his fork to appease his companion’s motherly stare. “Apparently another student checked it out a week ago. I am willing to wait, just grateful the library has a copy.”

It didn’t take long from there for the two to dissolve into idle chatter between bites of their food. Caleb had to admit to himself that it was rather tasty—warm and seasoned well. He wasn’t much of a cook himself, but he knew a tasty meal when he had one. Veth eagerly divulged details of her new gig within the bar when Caleb finally diverted the conversation away from the events of his day.

“I get to wear a mask!” Caleb blinked at Veth’s excited proclamation, wondering if perhaps he had misheard her. “To hide my identity!”

“Why…would you need to do that?” Caleb asked, glancing with now nervous fervor around the bar. Patrons looking for dinner now occupied a few of the tables, and Caleb wondered if he had missed something. This place didn’t _seem_ intensely shady, but now he worried.

“It’s not like that,” Veth correctly assumed and waved away Caleb’s concerns. “I told Molly that I was worried about being recognized, is all. I’m fine being seen during the day when it’s just a restaurant, but I don’t want people seeing me at night and getting the wrong idea. They might use it against Yeza or Luc, and I don’t want that. Molly was more than understanding and we decided a mask and fake name might work. It’s like I’m a spy!”

Caleb studied her face quietly, eventually sighing and giving his friend a tiny smile. With a quiet consolation of, “as long as you are safe and happy here, I’m happy for you.”

Beaming across the table at him, Veth reached over to pat her tiny hand against his before going back to her food. Caleb took another moment to scan around the interior, taking it all in, committing it all to memory, before resuming his own meal. They kept on with shiftless snippets of conversation until their plates were empty and Molly came to collect Veth for continued training.

As Veth scooped up their plates from the table and left Caleb with a parting kiss on the cheek, Molly leaned their hands against the back of Veth’s vacated seat. Those solid red eyes bore into Caleb again and the human steeled his will against the urge to look away. Whatever Molly was searching for, they seemed appeased by what they found, a broad grin stretching across their lips.

“Well, lovely to meet you, Mr. Caleb,” Molly’s light accent swirled like honeyed whiskey over Caleb. They pushed off the back of the chair and waved a casual hand in a wide gesture around the interior of the bar. Turning their back to walk towards the kitchen after Veth, they called over their shoulder, “stick around a while, if you’d like. We’re open a while longer.”

Caleb had to admit, he wasn’t sure where that invitation had come from, but he had nothing better to do. He could go back to his apartment and read through the books tucked into his bag, but he and his roommate both kept odd hours, and Caleb didn’t quite feel like being entirely alone just yet. The restaurant was fairly empty, and quiet enough for him to concentrate, so he figured there was no harm in waiting around under the guise of wanting to leave with Veth.

With that decided, Caleb settled into his seat and pulled a book at random free from his bag. Nose tucked firmly between the pages, he barely acknowledged the passage of time or events happening around him as he took every word in. It was a great ability for his habits of study, but detrimental at times when he found himself in public places.

He was only reminded of the latter effect when he looked up what must have been a couple hours later. He found himself surrounded by loud music, varying stages of drunk individuals, and—apparently—in the middle of a drag performance.


	2. a show of scrutiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [throws this chapter into the void] enjoy
> 
> as always thanks to Theo and Liz for consuming literally everything i've ever created as my beautiful beta readers <3

It was as he exited the subway, coming back into daylight and squinting against the change in brightness, that Fjord wondered exactly what he was doing. He had no reason to go back to a gay bar beyond the strange invitation from Molly. Earlier that morning, Fjord had rationalized with himself that he was exploring different options for food beyond his usual places. But it served as a weak excuse; he was just a curious, impulsive man.

Fjord rolled his shoulders with a sigh as he walked, resigning himself to whatever he was about to walk into. Coming upon the bar, casting a cursory glance at the intricately painted sign above the door reading _The Moon and Mirror_ he had failed to notice last night, Fjord made his approach. Yasha was not sitting outside this time, so he walked right in and found a completely different establishment.

Without the throng of drunken bodies milling about, the interior seemed bigger. Cozy tables arranged a scattered, senseless pattern across the floor, and a large, beautiful tapestry adorned the one wall. The drapes that had covered the front window from the night before were pulled back, letting natural light spill in as the afternoon wore on.

“Oh, well, if it isn’t Mr. Fjord!” a jovial voice called, directing Fjord’s attention.

Stood behind the bar, leaning casually against the counter, was Molly. A grin stretched their lips wide as solid red eyes scrunched at the corners with their smile. The daylight revealed tattoos covering their neck and one side of their face that Fjord had (somehow) failed to notice earlier.

Striding over to the bar, Fjord slid onto a stool with a nod of greeting.

“Yep. I uh…I’m here.” Fjord was so out of his depth, his natural charm seeming to flit away for reasons unknown.

“Charming as ever, I see,” Molly crowed, attention flicking to the tiny figure beside him.

Perched rather precariously on a barstool that had been dragged behind the bar was a sturdy Halfling woman, her hair in braids and wrists decorated with button bracelets. Her eyes were bright and mischievous, as she seemed to take in the two of them.

“Ah this,” Molly said by way of introduction, gesturing to the woman. “Is Mrs. Veth, our newest bartender. She’s doing some training today, if you’d like to test her skills with an order.”

“As much as I’d like to, I’ve got to head to work in an hour or two, so no drinks for me I’m afraid.” Fjord mustered up enough of his wits to flash Veth an easy, apologetic grin. She met the gesture with a smile that was all teeth and felt a little dangerous.

“Shame,” Molly said with a shrug. “All the same, what can we get you to eat, then? I’m sure you need something in your belly before any job.”

Pulling a menu his direction, Fjord perused the extensive collection of platters before deciding on something that sounded safe. He watched Molly scribble Fjord’s order down on a notepad before flouncing off into the kitchen. It left Veth on the stool, going over the process for mixing certain drinks in her head as she quietly pointed to random bottles and muttered to herself. She seemed uninviting for conversation with Fjord, and the half-Orc was more than okay with that.

It was as he was scrolling through some social media he wasn’t absorbing that the front door of the bar opened. Glancing up out of habit, Fjord did a double take.

One of the tallest creatures he had ever seen was ducking through the entrance, skin pale and contrasting against the shock of long, pink hair cascading over one shoulder. The other side of the Firbolg’s head was shaved high and tight with an interesting pattern buzzed even closer to the scalp. Fjord felt a little weird about staring, but he had never seen hair quite that color before.

“Caddy!” Molly’s voice crowed from the bar, startling Fjord who hadn’t noticed them returning. “You made it!”

“Mollymauk,” the Firbolg greeted in a deep, calm voice, offering a serene smiled to the Tiefling. “How are you?”

“Swell, of course,” Molly grinned, large and bright. “Did you bring what I asked for?”

This ‘Caddy’ nodded and reached into a worn shoulder bag to produce a little cloth pouch to pass over the counter. Molly beamed and pocketed it before happily dropping a couple crumpled bills into the Firbolg’s hand.

Fjord pretended that he had seen none of that.

“Well now,” Molly said, clasping their hands together and turning to Veth with a quick gesture. “Caddy, this is Mrs. Veth, the one I told you about. Veth, this is Mr. Caduceus Clay. He’s going to make you that bench we talked about.”

Veth and Caduceus got into conversation, discussing the semantics of the bench that would aid Veth’s work. She was far too short to reach the counter as it was and putting her on a barstool severely limited her range of movement. The bench would ensure she could see above the counter to work while also allowing her to move back and forth.

Fjord stopped paying attention not long into the conversation. It wasn’t a discussion he needed to be a part of, and he felt weird about just flicking his gaze back and forth between the speakers. Every now and then, Molly would pipe up, spouting off something about the space behind the bar. At one point, however, they ducked into the kitchen and emerged a couple minutes later with Fjord’s food.

“Here ya go, handsome,” Molly said, winking as they slid the platter across the counter. The steam wafted merrily up from the pile of food, and Fjord fought to keep a straight face.

“Thanks,” Fjord muttered, scooping up his utensils, glad to have something to hold his attention so he wouldn’t feel so awkward.

“Mrs. Veth,” Molly sweetly interrupted the conversation between their other two patrons. “Does Mr. Caleb want anything while he sits here?”

“He should probably have a drink,” Veth mused, glancing at a point over Fjord’s shoulder. “Would you mind taking him some water? He’ll figure out it’s there if you just leave it nearby.”

Fjord glanced over his shoulder at where Veth had indicated. Doing a double take as he spotted a table tucked into a part of the room he hadn’t seen upon arrival, Fjord had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn’t mistaken. Sitting there, somewhat hunched, nose buried in a book, was Fjord’s roommate Caleb.

“Caleb?” He said more to himself than anything. He had a lot of questions suddenly—the main one being why his reclusive roommate was familiar with the employees of a gay bar. But Fjord shoved those down, probably to never pose to his roommate. He and Caleb operated on an acquaintanceship basis. It was not Fjord’s place to pelt the other with potentially personal questions.

Turning back to his food, Fjord found himself pinned under the curious stares of both Molly and Veth.

“You know Caleb?” Veth asked first, bold and straightforward.

“Oh, uh yeah,” Fjord managed, pushing his food around on his plate. “We’re roommates. I don’t uh…know him all that well. Our schedules don’t match up much.”

“How unfortunate,” Molly tut under their breath, strutting off to the kitchen again before Fjord could ask what that meant. Veth kept her piercing gaze trained on the half-Orc a little longer as Fjord returned to his food. After a few awkward moments, though, Caduceus pulled Veth’s attention back to him. Discussion of the bench continued and Fjord busied himself with eating.

Molly returned as Fjord was finishing up, and he handed off his credit card to the Tiefling.

“Okay,” Caduceus’ deep voice caught Fjord’s attention. “I think I have everything that I need. I’ll come back here when it’s finished. Oh, and fair warning, my roommate is an artist. She’ll probably end up painting it while I’m not looking. I hope you don’t mind.”

Veth furrowed her brows at the comment but in the end just shrugged and said, “doesn’t matter to me.”

It was at that moment Molly returned with Fjord’s card and receipt, handing them off to the half-Orc. The Tiefling turned a dazzling smile to Caduceus and leaned their elbows on the bar top.

“Leaving already, Caddy?”

“Yes, I’ve got to get back to the shop. I’ll have the bench in a few days, if that’s all right.” Caduceus’ grin was affable, unaffected by Molly’s heavy charms and mannerisms. Fjord wondered idly how long they had known each other as he scribbled his barely legible signature onto the receipt.

“Sounds perfect!” Molly chirped, turning to Veth cheerily. “I’m sure it’ll be perfect. Caddy’s great at what he does.”

“Oh, why thank you,” Caduceus grinned at Molly as Fjord stood to leave. “Well then, I’ll be off,” the Firbolg waved to Molly and Veth, turning to head out the door. The other’s gaze caught Fjord, who had slung his bag over his shoulder and left quiet thanks to Molly for the food.

“Which way are you heading?” Caduceus asked, casual as anything as he held the door open for Fjord.

“Oh,” Fjord blinked, not expecting the other to say anything to him. “I’m heading to College Point. I’ve got to catch the Q66 in a few minutes.”

Caduceus smiled, walking alongside Fjord as the latter started heading towards his stop. “I hope it isn’t weird if I come along. My store’s in the same direction about two blocks from here. Also, I don’t believe I caught your name in there.”

“Oh, uh I’m Fjord,” he paused after introducing himself before asking, “you’ve got a store?” Fjord couldn’t help his curiosity, despite knowing nothing more than Caduceus’ name.

“I own an apothecary that doubles as a flower shop,” Caduceus said, hands tucked into the pockets of a long, green cardigan. “It’s very nice, if I do say so myself. I’ve put quite a bit of work into my establishment and it’s unique set up. Mollymauk has been very gracious in helping spread word about what I offer there, too.”

Ah, so now the hand-off from earlier made sense. The apothecary part of that statement meant Molly had likely been getting herbs or a tea blend or something of the like. Fjord felt a little better for having witnessed something that had initially seemed sketchy.

“That’s pretty cool, actually,” Fjord admitted, pausing at an intersection. Cars rushed past them in their daily bustle. Fjord could see his bus stop from here, and it looked like he had beat the arrival, so he wouldn’t be late for work. Turning back to Caduceus, Fjord tried to keep the conversation flowing.

“What kind of things do you sell under the apothecary part of the shop?”

Caduceus’ eyes sparkled, a smile tugging at the Firbolg’s lips, looking rather delighted that Fjord had asked. Pulling his hands free from his pockets, Caduceus ticked items off on his fingers, voice cheerful.

“All sorts of tea blends—floral, fruity, earthy—loose herbs,” Caduceus continued as they crossed the street, slowing as they approached the bus stop. “Essential oils, even some gemstones. I recently got my license to sell CBD oil, too. I’m expecting a new crowd through my doors soon.”

“Oh,” Fjord huffed a laugh, amused as he craned his neck to peer through oncoming traffic for his bus. “I can imagine.”

“I’m sure they’re lovely people,” Caduceus said, and Fjord was a little surprised to hear how genuine the other sounded. “I’m excited to meet them.”

Glancing over his shoulder at the pink-haired Firbolg, Fjord took a moment to truly observe him. There wasn’t a trace of dishonesty in that statement, just genuine anticipation to meet people he had never met before. It was…refreshing? He wasn’t sure why, but it was an outlook on a stereotype that Fjord hadn’t encountered.

“I believe this is your bus?” Caduceus’ voice pulled Fjord from his musing, eyes darting to the bus that was just pulling up to the curb. He hadn’t even noticed it approaching.

“Oh, yeah, uh,” Fjord looked back to Caduceus and stuck out his hand, offering a grin. Caduceus took Fjord’s hand and gave it a simple shake, pleasant. “Thank you. It was nice to meet you.”

“You as well, Mr. Fjord,” Caduceus said, giving a cheerful wave to the half-Orc as Fjord hopped onto the bus.

* * *

Looking up from his book to find himself in the middle of a drag performance was disorienting, to put it mildly. His innate ability to tune entirely out of the world around him and focus only on the inked words lining the pages of his tome was both a blessing and a curse. As he blinked against the strobing lights, Caleb winced when the music pounded from dull to roaring as he came back to himself. Immediately going tense, he scanned the bar that had all but transformed in his lapse of attention. His initial reaction was to find an exit route, wanting nothing more than to be anywhere but here.

The last time Caleb had been in a bar this late at night, he had been twenty-one and celebrating his birthday with friends from school. But never in his life had he been to a drag performance. So again, looking up from his book to find himself smack in the middle of one was the exact _last_ thing he had expected to happen today.

After a moment of glancing about, he figured he could just get up and slip out without issue. Caleb shut his book and set about packing up. A glance at his watch proved that it was well after ten, approaching eleven. It was almost embarrassing how absorbed he had become in his novel, not even registering the rowdy performance. Through the throng of bodies, Caleb could see a masked Veth standing alongside a dark-skinned woman with a noticeable undercut behind the bar. He didn’t fault the Halfling for not rousing him, because she was working after all. But a warning about the bar’s nightlife would have been helpful.

With a rough sigh, Caleb snapped his bag shut and shrugged his coat more firmly around his shoulders as he stood. As he ducked and wove through the crowd, trying to keep his head down, he felt a shoulder jam into his. Knocked off balance, he stumbled a little toward where the crowd had left some open space for the performers. Caleb caught himself before completely falling, grunting as he straightened and tried to step out of the way. But there was someone in his space, reeking of perfume and every inch of them seeming to glint in the flashing lights.

He looked up and came face to face with a heavily made-up but easy to recognize Mollymauk.

Caleb blinked, startled, and tried to take a step back but found a throng of bodies at his back, barring him from escaping. Panic settled into his bones, and Caleb muscled it down, pushing a harsh breath through his nose. Molly grinned, sharp and intoxicating, fangs gleaming, and one front tooth stained with a smudge of the gold glitter lipstick they were wearing. They didn’t touch Caleb, but socially they were in Caleb’s space. Solid red eyes flashed in the dim light, taking the human in and looking hungry, curious.

Everything about this situation was confusing, contradicting, because Caleb’s instincts were yelling at him to run, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Molly. Every inch of skin uncovered by the revealing blazer Molly sported was shimmering with body glitter, accenting their gold glitter lips and matching brows. They had even painted precise shimmering facial hair over their chin and cheeks in a mockup of a beard. Their wavy purple hair was slicked back and styled. A stray curl brushed over Molly’s sweaty forehead that Caleb found infinitely distracting. The blazer was a deep crimson, with cigarette pants to match and heels too tall to be functional. Caleb flushed and tried to press further back, flinching when Molly danced a little closer to him, ignoring all the hooting drunks waving crumpled bills at them. The Tiefling had eyes only for Caleb it seemed, and Caleb wished fiercely that they would look anywhere else, free Caleb from this pinning stare.

“Going somewhere, handsome?” Molly’s voice crooned beneath the music, just barely audible over the thrum. Caleb felt his cheeks warm—whether from irritation or being flustered, he didn’t know at the moment. But Caleb stared level back at Molly, mouth set in a firm line and brow furrowed—refusing to back down.

He watched Molly chuckle before winking at Caleb and sauntering away. The Tiefling snatched the bills from those waving them, integrating the movement with almost flawless grace into their dancing. Caleb watched them swing their hips around, twisting to make eye contact with the human and blowing him a cheeky kiss. The crowd whistled and cheered, and Caleb didn’t bother sticking around. His cheeks were hot, his heart pounding a furious beat behind his ribs.

Stumbling free of the throng of patrons, all but collapsing against the door, Caleb shoved it open and spilled into the night. A bouncer was sitting on a stool, leaning her back against the wall, and spared Caleb an uninterested glance at his graceless exit. Letting the door swing shut behind him, he took deep, gasping breaths of chilly air. Caleb focused on the cars driving by every now and again, this part of Queens a little quieter than others. He let the muted noise ground him, bring him back to an easier reality.

“Just so you know,” the bouncer’s quiet, accented voice piped up behind Caleb, prompting him to twist and look at her. “If you throw up on the sidewalk here, you’re coming back to clean it up.”

Caleb wasn’t sure if she was joking or not, but he didn’t bother to find out. Shoving his hands deep into the front pockets of his coat, Caleb stalked off into the night. The subway stop back to his apartment wasn’t far from here, and he kept up a steady pace to try getting there faster. He was properly through with today and wanted it to end as soon as possible. Caleb knew that his roommate would likely be home from work, but considering how late it was, he didn’t think it was likely he would bump into him.

Head tipping back to stare at the sky between the buildings, sighing long through his nose, Caleb just hoped that Veth enjoyed her new job. He tried to let that thought distract him, but it wasn’t enough. His mind wandered, quite without his permission, to places Caleb would rather avoid.

Molly’s face flashed behind each blink, a brand against the backs of Caleb’s eyelids. He tried to shove down the feeling that welled in his chest; the attraction borne of curiosity and something long repressed. His hold on the bag slung over his shoulder tightening, Caleb picked up his pace back toward his apartment.

He told himself in a repetitious mantra that he wouldn’t let himself be curious this time. Caleb couldn’t afford to slip up a second time.

The early winter wind nipped at Caleb’s cheeks as he paced toward his apartment as he forced Molly from his mind.

* * *

“You’re late!” An obnoxious voice crowed from behind the counter as Beau shoved into the bar. She didn’t even spare Molly a glance as she held up a hand to flip them off, fighting a grin at the familiar greeting.

“Am not!” Beau called back, indignant if only for her pride. “Learn how to tell time!”

Molly cackled and flung a dishrag at her, Beau deftly catching it before it could smack her in the face. Turning, she chucked it back and watched Molly fumble with the damp rag for a moment before dropping it on the bar top. Beau detoured from her route to the back to swipe in so she could lean against the bar and raise a pierced eyebrow at Molly.

“New hire here today?”

“Yep,” Molly beamed, fangs peaking out from behind their lips. “Mrs. Veth seems to be a quick learner. I’ve sent her on a dinner break since she insisted on working the shift tonight. I might pull you back behind the bar from out front if it gets too crazy. You know how Fridays are.”

Beau offered them a two-finger salute of acknowledgement before making her way to the back room. She changed out quickly, shrugging her bomber jacket back on over her uniform as she shut her locker. The room next to their lockers was lit, music playing from the speakers as a handful of queens bustled about, dolling themselves up. The beginnings of a haze of smoke carrying the sweet zing of weed with it already fogged the room. Beau lifted her hand toward them in a casual wave as they called out greetings.

“Yasha just went out front,” Molly called to Beau when she re-emerged into the restaurant. Her eyes scanned across the growing crowd that was already starting to pack into the bar. Every Friday was like this, and Beau loved it. As she scanned over semi-familiar faces, her eyes caught on a lone figure hunched over a book in one corner.

“Who’s the nerd?” Beau asked, turning to look at Molly. Their solid red gaze made a strange motion as formless eyes flicked to glance over Beau’s shoulder at where she gestured. A strange smile pulled at their lips, and Beau was intrigued.

“That’s Mrs. Veth’s friend—Caleb. He’s been nose to ink with that book since he got here three hours ago.”

“Three _hours_?” Beau repeated, incredulous. “What the fuck?” She shot another glance over at the man, double checked her watch and—yeah. It was just past nine at night, the bar revving up for their drag show that night, and this Caleb person was reading a book. Huffing a disbelieving laugh, Beau shook her head and shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

“Whatever. I’m heading out front, call me if you need me behind the bar. You better head back if you want to be dolled up in time.” Molly gave her a shooing gesture of acknowledgment as she turned and headed out to sit with Yasha.

Pushing open the front door, Beau hunched into herself a little at the biting chill that greeted her. She slid onto the empty stool across from Yasha as she fumbled to zip up her bomber jacket, fingers already chilled. Beau spared the other woman a glance before checking the IDs of a rather rowdy squad of humans and half-elves that she vaguely recognized. As she waved them in, Beau once again wished that they had the funds to spare on one of those fancy scanners. It would expedite letting people into the bar, that much was certain. But Molly wasn’t in the business of making drinks and food more expensive than necessary. They also didn’t have a cover charge to get in on nights like these.

But they got paid, so they could manage without the scanner.

“Gods, it’s freezing,” Beau groused, hunching further into her jacket and tucking her nose into her collar. A glance at Yasha showed that she was lounging against the wall, looking as intimidating as ever and sporting her signature leather jacket. The towering woman also looked unbothered, jacket unzipped and dark t-shirt underneath.

“How are you not cold?”

Mismatched eyes flicked over to meet Beau’s, leaving the human breathless as always.

“I don’t feel the cold much,” Yasha said, offering Beau a loose shrug. Her voice was quiet and even as it always was. It was that removed, badass attitude of hers that first drew Beau in, the mystery and the punk vibe. But through the tiny snippets of conversations over their time bouncing together, Beau found dry humor and quiet thoughtfulness hidden beneath that stoic mask. It only served to add to the allure, and Beau was a quiet goner from the start.

“Lucky,” Beau muttered, shivering again as the wind picked up a little.

They passed a little longer in silence, interrupted only when patrons arrived, rosy-cheeked from the cold and most already looking a little buzzed. Beau kept a tally of how many bodies passed through their door on a little notepad. It was more to make sure they were keeping to the building code than anything else, but Molly also liked to know how consistent their population was in terms of audience.

Beau tucked the notepad away again as Yasha waved a gaggle of half-orcs, humans, and a Tabaxi inside. She shot a look at her companion, observing the other woman while Yasha’s attention was elsewhere. In the yellow half-light of the streetlamps and shop windows, Yasha’s abnormally pale skin glowed like washed out moonlight. Yasha gathered her hair up and pulled it over one shoulder as Beau watched with fascination and swallowed against her suddenly dry throat. It was such a mundane, simple movement, and yet Yasha made it look so ethereal. Beau opened her mouth to say something, maybe to tell Yasha how beautiful she was, when the door burst open and a queen stuck her head out. The fake hair almost didn’t fit through the frame, and both Yasha and Beau looked her way almost immediately.

“Beau, love,” the queen—Amber—called above the music spilling out behind her. “Molly needs you behind the bar. Nott’s getting a tad overwhelmed.”

“Who the fuck is Nott?”

Amber blinked at Beau, long, exaggerated lashes fluttering obscenely.

“The recent hire? It’s her fake name, didn’t Molly tell you?” Beau shot a look at the queen and she simpered a look Beau’s way in return. “Right. Well, either way, you’re needed.”

Amber ducked back into the bar as the door swung shut soundly after her. Beau pushed off the stool and stretched her arms and legs out, the icy air nipping against her as she moved. She would rather sit out here in the cold the rest of the night across from Yasha. Instead, she waved a hand in the other woman’s direction and headed inside with a sarcastic, “duty calls”.

Inside was just as insane as it always was on a Friday night.

People were everywhere, the throng of sweaty, drunk, dancing bodies filling up the space to just under code regulations. Molly was always fond of pushing boundaries in the best and worst of ways. The performance hadn’t started just yet, but the queens that were ready had begun to mingle in the crowd, hyping them up and drawing attention. They had a steady rotation of queens and kings that came through the bar with a solid six regulars that used _The Moon and Mirror_ as their base, and Friday was almost always for their regulars. Molly hadn’t emerged from the back yet, so Beau shucked off her bomber jacket and tucked it beneath the bar before swiping up a shaker.

Veth—who wore a mask that covered the lower half of her face—was in the middle of pouring a bunch of shots. Beau caught the Halfling’s eye and gave her a quick nod before moving on.

Twenty minutes later, most of the crowd had moved away from the bar, properly drunk, to focus on the drag show about to start. Beau and Veth had a moment to breathe and Beau took the chance to sidle up alongside the stool the other perched upon. As she wiped down the shaker she had been using, Beau glanced at Veth.

“So,” she said above the music. “Nott?”

Veth looked up at her, and the Halfling’s eyes narrowed for a moment before she nodded.

“Why? Boss never tells me anything.” She avoided using the nickname she always used with Fjord, just because she didn’t know where Veth stood yet. It was all in good fun, but Beau learned the hard way to test the waters before jumping in.

“I’ve got a family,” the answer came from behind the mask. “And while I don’t have any qualms about working here, my husband’s coworkers aren’t as open-minded. I figured I would spare the bar and him the trouble.”

Beau wanted to dig into that, wanted to get defensive, but she stopped herself. If anyone understood a little lying for the sake of one’s self, it was Beau. So instead of saying what she wanted to say, she just nodded and put the shaker away.

“Cool,” Beau offered, reaching for another shaker to dry. “What does your husband do?”

Veth’s eyes were calculating, intelligent, as she studied Beau over the lip of her mask. Beau stared right back because two could play this game and Beau had been playing it her whole life.

“He works at one of the nearby universities as a science professor. He does a lot of research, and he’s very brilliant.”

Beau knew that Veth was probably inflating her husband’s intellect as most were wont to do in casual conversation. But she chose not to call her out on it. She just nodded and went about the motions of wiping down the drying cups and shakers lined up in front of her as they talk.

“I’m sure—the universities in this area are no joke. Any kids?”

“One, he’s five. He’s just as brilliant as his father.”

Beau nodded again. A human came up to the bar to order three more shots and Beau sent him on his way pretty quick. The interruption broke their flow of conversation, and neither seemed to know how or where to pick it up again. Deciding to let it drop, Beau leaned up against the counter, arms folded, and watched the performance through the tangle of bodies between the queens and herself. She hooted and cheered for each queen, happy to see they were all being decently tipped tonight by the crowd.

Around the start of Molly’s performance, a group of people stumbled up to the bar and stole Beau and Veth’s attention from the show. By the time they were wiping down the shakers and shot glasses, Molly was wrapping up their performance. Veth was peering through the crowd at a table near the corner of the front window, when Beau glanced her way. From the concerned creases at the corners of her eyes, Beau had to wonder what she was looking at.

Veth concealed the expression rather abruptly, though, and Beau decided it wasn’t worth bringing it back up.

The pair passed the night in relative silence between each other, and about an hour after the performance ended, Beau gave last call. Their Friday shows were always two hours long, and by now they were edging on one in the morning. Most of the patrons had emptied out of the bar, and the queens had long since ducked into the dressing room to take off their glitter.

Beau was in the middle of pouring three shots out for a blasted trio of half-elves when Molly came up to Veth’s side of the bar. She waved off the trio as they stumbled from the restaurant after downing their last shots and paying, before turning to the pair behind her.

“How was the shift?” Molly asked conversationally, gold glitter still shimmering faintly on their lips.

Veth, who still wore her mask, gave a one-shoulder shrug as she lined up the clean shot glasses with unnecessary precision.

“About what I expected,” her shrill voice was a little muffled behind the face covering. “The performance was…interesting.” Her hesitation was brief, barely noticeable, but Beau picked up on it, anyway. She leaned against the bar and smirked at the Halfling.

“Which part? The raving drunks or the way Ophelia shook her ass padding for a twenty?”

Molly barked out a laugh and Veth looked almost like she was fighting the amusement in her eyes.

“All of it,” Veth answered once Molly had settled down. “I’ve never been to one of these performances before—or a gay bar, for that matter.”

“Well,” Molly said with a flourish, grinning widely with their fangs on display. “I’m glad it could be our establishment that deflowered you for both.”

Veth made an amused noise of surprise behind the mask and Beau couldn’t help but cackle in response. She reached under the counter and pulled out a bottle of dark, rich colored whiskey before swiping three of the clean shot glasses from Veth’s neat rows. Pouring out the liquor with deft ease, Beau pushed a glass to Veth and Molly, lifting her own in cheers.

“I’ll drink to that,” Beau said as the other two clinked their glasses against hers. Taking the shot in one swift motion, Beau breathed out harsh and quick through her nose as the whiskey burned on the way down. Veth had removed her mask to take the shot and was staring at the now empty glass appreciatively.

“Well,” Molly crowed, sliding their empty glass to Beau and stretching their arms long over their head. “Mrs. Veth, your friend from earlier headed out during my first song, so you don’t have to worry ‘bout him. You should get back to that family of yours. Need an escort home?”

Veth tucked her mask away under the bar and produced her bag from the same compartment. Worn and well loved, sewn on patches and buttons covered the bag, and kitschy key chains were hanging from the zipper and rattling cheerfully. The Halfling flashed Beau and Molly a deceivingly sweet smile as she adjusted the bag on her shoulder.

“No need, I’ve got a switchblade on me at all times.”

Molly and Beau exchanged a look, and Beau smirked.

“Yeah, she’s gonna fit in here just fine,” Beau said, wiping down the shot glasses they used.

“Well, we’ll see you tomorrow then, Mrs. Veth,” Molly said cheerfully, waving as they headed back toward the dressing room.

Veth gave Beau a strange look before offering a swift, “good night,” and hopped off her stool to scuttle out the door.

Beau finished cleaning up behind the bar before moving on to wipe down the tables on the floor. They removed the fabric before the bar opened for the night because spills were inevitable, and it would be a pain to wash those things every night. With practiced ease of numerous shifts, Beau got the place clean enough to be passable until tomorrow when they could go over everything again, and she thought about Veth. The Halfling definitely didn’t appear to be cut from the same cloth as the rest of their staff upon first glance, but Beau had an inkling that there was something more to her. She was willing to bet money that Molly didn’t have all the details but had the same suspicion. Beau hadn’t fully taken to Veth, but she was curious enough to keep at her.

And who knew? Maybe it would be fun.


	3. disparate pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

He wasn’t surprised when he stepped into the apartment at the end of the afternoon to find his near completed bench painted. It wasn’t painted one solid color, but swirling with vibrant, haphazard patterns of paisley and geometric shapes, sprawling flowers and cartoonish faces. Caduceus didn’t search for them, but he was certain there was at least one overly detailed dick painted in there somewhere.

Sighing fondly, the Firbolg shut the door behind himself and meandered over to the stove to start on a pot of tea. Much like the bench in their living room, Caduceus’ roommate had taken the liberty of giving their kitchen quite the makeover after they moved in. The walls were an attractive shade of yellow, the cabinets neatly colored a striking blue and detailed with various shades of reds and pinks. Caduceus’ overflowing collection of plants on every surface served to only increase the homey nature of the little kitchen. It was easy for the Firbolg to go about his business comfortably, pulling down a pair of mugs as the kettle heated on the stove.

The water was just starting to boil and whistle in the kettle when his roommate came flouncing into the kitchenette, skirts flying.

“Caduceus!” the little blue Tiefling cheered, her accent ringing bright through every syllable. Wrapping herself around his arm, she beamed up at him in greeting. “Welcome back!”

“Afternoon, Jester,” Caduceus drawled, smiling down at her. “Would you like some tea?”

“Ooh!” Jester peered around his arm, violet eyes shimmering. “What flavor?”

“Hibiscus,” Caduceus said, pouring steaming water into two mugs (he already had Jester’s pulled down from the cabinet in anticipation). Dropping a pre-made tea bag in each, Caduceus handed her the sparkling pink mug with a serene smile.

“I finished making some of these before I closed up. They’re the flowers I tried fertilizing with Sprinkle’s droppings. I think they turned out pretty well.”

Jester took a tentative sip, careful of the temperature, before grinning up at him. She put her mug down so she could hop around a little without spilling any. Twirling in a circle, her deep green skirt whirled around her, wrapping around her legs as she paused.

“It tastes _great,_ Caduceus! I’m so glad Sprinkle could help!”

“He did a magnificent job,” Caduceus acknowledged, leaning his hips back against the countertop to sip at his own mug. “The flowers grew very well, and the aroma is very bold. He’s a natural.”

Jester devolved into giggles, scooping up her own mug as she snagged a muffin from the tray they had left sitting out by the stove this morning. Her blue cheeks were tinged purple with her delight, and it warmed the Firbolg to see.

They had been rooming together for near a year, and any misconceptions they were a poor fit were laid to rest near immediately. They got on like a house on fire, and it shocked everyone involved. Caduceus had met Jester’s mother the day they moved in, and the lovely Tiefling woman had eyed him with open suspicion. Her concern about her daughter’s well-being had been clear. But they had spent all of fifteen minutes getting to know each other—with Jester’s determined reassurances that Caduceus would be a great roommate—before Marion had eased up.

Now he sent his most loyal customer monthly loads of calming, aromatic tea blends.

“I see you found the bench I made,” Caduceus commented, gesturing to the living room. “It’s very colorful.”

“I know I said I would ask,” Jester began, pouting as she ducked her head bashfully. “But it was just so _plain_ , and I couldn’t help myself.”

“That’s quite alright,” Caduceus reassured her, smiling amicably. “I told the customer you would likely paint it, so they’re expecting it. I think they’ll love it.”

That got Jester to perk up again, her tail flicking with excitement behind her as she took a swift bite of her muffin. “You really think so?” Jester asked through the crumbs falling out of her mouth.

“They would be foolish not to,” Caduceus said, smiling as he took another sip of tea. “I’m going to drop it off tomorrow afternoon. Would you like to come along? I’m sure they would love to meet the artist.”

Jester nodded enthusiastically, muffin crumbs falling from her lips as she chewed a bite through a smile. Setting her treat aside with her tea, the little Tiefling darted off toward her room, calling over her shoulder.

“Let me grab my paints! I have some finishing touches to put on!”

Chuckling again, long fingers wrapped securely around his steaming mug, Caduceus followed her. Settling into one of their worn out chairs in the living room, the Firbolg was content to watch on as Jester reappeared with her paints and brushes to continue her work.

A few minutes into her work, Jester piped up, eyes never straying from her brush.

“Oh, Mama called while you were out. She said that some of her customers were asking about your tea blends and would you be able to send over some more sachets for her to sell?”

“Of course I can,” Caduceus agreed, barely giving it a thought. “Anything for my most loyal customer and sometimes employee.”

Jester giggled as she swirled her brush through a bright, obnoxious green. She never said it, but Caduceus knew that it meant a lot to her that he was so willing to let Marion do things like this. Jester had told him that her mother was a bit of a recluse, her social anxiety unlike anything he had ever seen. That Marion had come all the way to New York to help Jester move in had apparently been a huge deal.

They continued to pass the time in peaceful quiet, Jester humming to herself as she worked and Caduceus sipping away at his tea. The afternoon shadows stretched as the evening grew old, and Caduceus only moved to turn on some lights when he got up to start dinner for them. Jester joined him in the kitchen about halfway through the process, washing the paint off her hands before offering to help.

The evening passed with quiet reverence, the pair content to have dinner and chat about nothing in particular. As they were cleaning up, Jester glanced at the clock on the oven and made a noise of surprise.

“I didn’t realize it was so late! I need to get going if I’m going to finish my painting in time.” Caduceus watched the little Tiefling flit around the apartment, changing her clothes in her room and reemerging to throw her painting bag together as she also tried to tug her boots on at the same time.

“Have fun, be safe,” Caduceus called their usual farewell from the kitchen as Jester laced her boots while walking. “I’ll wait up for you.”

Halfway out the door, Jester shouted back, “I promise to be back before midnight this time!”

The door shut loudly behind her, leaving Caduceus chuckling as he settled in more comfortably with his tea and the bench drying nearby.

* * *

There was a window seat in their apartment, a little nook gifted by architecture and circumstance that Molly had taken to overstuffing with blankets and pillows. Yasha rarely paid the seat any mind unless it was storming; then she would curl up there and watch the rain against the window, tracing raindrops and just observing.

However, there were rare mornings after sleepless nights that Yasha sat there to watch the sunrise over the buildings across the street. She curled among the pillows and tangled with the blankets and watched the sky turn every shade of dawn and just breathed.

“Mornin’ Yasha,” Molly called as they stumbled blearily from their room. She didn’t acknowledge their greeting beyond a quiet look, but Molly didn’t seem to mind. They went about putting on a pot of coffee before trundling into the bathroom.

Yasha kept watch over the dawn as the smell of warm coffee wafted through the living room.

Over the next few minutes, Molly reemerged from the bathroom, poured them both a mug of steaming coffee, and obnoxiously tucked themselves into the limited space on the window seat across from Yasha. It was times like these that her roommate reminded her far too much of a cat. Despite herself, Yasha smirked into her mug and pulled her feet a little closer to her so that Molly had room.

“I’ve still got some tea from Caddy if you want to sleep later,” Molly said, solid red eyes trained out the window. Yasha knew they were doing that thing where they acted as casual as possible about the topics they never breached so that Yasha might feel more at ease. She loved them for it, and one day she might consider returning that thoughtfulness with actual answers, but the morning sky and the bitter coffee on her tongue were not lending to her speech. So Yasha shook her head and sent Molly a grateful look from behind the rim of her mug.

They seemed to understand and fell silent, watching the sunrise with Yasha for far longer than strictly necessary. Molly tried to get Yasha to smile by poking her legs with their chilled toes, wriggling to get them into the warm crease of Yasha’s knee even as she bat gently at their attempts.

She was smiling small and fond by the time they untucked their stiff limbs from the window seat, and it was victory enough for Molly. Neither of them were very adept at cooking, but they hadn’t fucked up eggs and toast so far. Molly, however, was on probation from the stove after an attempt at pasta had gone very wrong. They stood guard over the toaster as it did all the work and watched Yasha scramble a decent helping of eggs in a pan.

“Unrelated topic,” Molly drawled casually and Yasha slid a suspicious look their way. Her gaze was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling eyes. “Are you ever going to stop pining after Beau and actually talk to her?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yasha said stiffly, her cheeks flushing in betrayal.

Molly cackled and swiped the toast from the toaster the second it popped up. “Right. I must have imagined all those besotted glances on your end. _And_ all those times Beau has called you hot and talked about your eyes when she thinks I’m not listening.”

Yasha’s hand froze where she pushed the eggs around in the pan with intent. Looking over at Molly again, she wasn’t fooled at all by their casual attempt at putting spread on the toast.

“She talks about me?”

Yasha sounded far more timid than she intended to, and her tone drew Molly’s attention. Their teasing expression melted into something fond with a tinge of pity. She knew that they didn’t pity her, just her inability to read other people.

“Quite a bit, honestly,” Molly said, casual but sincere. “Gets rather annoying, to be truthful, but she seems very attracted to you. You’re both just too much of a disaster to notice.”

Yasha frowned at them, and Molly reached over to pat her shoulder.

“I say that with all the love in my heart, of course.”

Yasha sighed and went back to their eggs, thoughts now otherwise occupied by a certain someone.

Molly let the topic drop after that. Instead, they turned to more mundane conversation about random things in the news and happenings in the bar from the night before. Yasha was content to listen and add commentary now and then, and the dynamic was familiar.

Cleaning up their dishes when they were finished, Yasha yawned into her hand and shook her head, trying to banish her fatigue. It always seemed to creep up on her after sleepless nights once she had eaten something. Molly’s hands gently removed the dishtowel from her grasp and they gave her a little nudge toward her bedroom.

“Get some sleep, Yash,” Molly ordered quietly. “We’ve got work tonight, and you need a nap at the very least.”

“Fine, fine,” Yasha grumbled, waving over her shoulder in response to Molly’s saccharine call for her to have sweet dreams. She bundled herself up beneath a thin blanket and fell asleep staring at the faded picture on her nightstand.

* * *

“Gigi, I swear! If you took my vest to bedazzle it again, I will shred your makeup brushes!” Beau yelled, storming through the bar with her shirt buttoned haphazardly. She had checked her bag and her locker, but her signature waistcoat for bartending was nowhere to be found. Beau knew she packed it before leaving the apartment, too; so it was here somewhere.

“I don’t have it!” Gigi trilled from the queens’ dressing room, all but pressed up against the mirror as she adhered fake eyelashes the length of her finger to her lids. “Ask Dotty! She went into the locker room for something earlier.”

Said queen turned from another mirror, lipstick only half applied, and blinked innocently at Beau. She didn’t buy it for a second and leveled an unimpressed glare with the queen.

“Fine,” Dotty groaned, setting aside the tube of neon lipstick and producing Beau’s unharmed vest from her overflowing bag. “I was going to cover it in glitter. What are you even doing here so early? I thought Yasha was bouncing tonight.”

“She is,” Beau said, brushing a few stray feathers from her waistcoat before shrugging it on with haste. “Molly wants me behind the bar again since Veth has only worked weeknights by herself so far. I was at the dojo when they called.”

From the other side of the dressing room, Amber looked up, heavily made-up eyes narrowing in Beau’s direction. With a gusty sigh, she stood and tossed her cell onto the counter before striding over to Beau. The queen shooed Beau’s fumbling fingers away from her buttons and took over, smoothing out the button up and adjusting the rumpled fabric first. She then tugged Beau’s waistcoat into order over her shoulders and deftly fastened the buttons on that, too.

Beau knew better than to protest like she would with anyone else. Amber was the oldest of their regular queens and very much fulfilled the role of “mom friend”. No one protested Amber’s fussing and got away with it.

“You work too much,” Amber said casually as her manicured fingers fixed Beau’s shirt collar with practiced ease. “Molly could have called Desmond in to help Veth.”

“Yeah, well, they called me. I think Desmond’s got a hot date or something—about time. Either way, I don’t mind it. I was done with classes anyway when they called.”

“Still,” Amber said as she admired her handiwork with an approving nod. “You’re here every weekend, as far as I’m aware, after working every other night of the week at that dojo _and_ attending classes. You’re going to burn out, Beau. Molly’s a hardass, but they’ll give you a night off if you ask for it.”

Beau just shrugged, flashing Amber a grateful look. She tugged her hair free of the messy bun it was in and started to re-do the style, fingers running through her tangled length of hair. It was an avoidance tactic, not wanting to tell the queens that if she had a night off, she would just spend it getting drunk alone in her apartment. It wasn’t exactly a glamorous admission, so Beau deftly whirled her hair into a tight, secure bun and changed the topic.

“Is it just you three performing tonight?”

“Ophelia’s also got a hot date,” Amber chuckled, moving back to her phone to type out a quick text. “None of the others could come in on short notice, and Molly’s fine with us running an extra number or two to fill the time.”

Beau huffed a quick laugh and stole a glance in one mirror to make sure she had gotten all her hair up. Satisfied with her appearance, Beau waved to the queens and ducked out the door with a call of thanks over her shoulder.

They had about an hour before the show was due to start, and Veth was already wearing her mask and set up behind the bar on her stool. The crowd had yet to roll in, so the bar was near empty. Music played quietly from the speakers as the meager late dinner crowd finished up their meals.

As Beau made her way over to the bar, the front door swung open and the vaguely familiar form of Caduceus ducked into the bar. She knew the Firbolg superficially as Molly’s somewhat business partner. Beau wasn’t sure what it was they did business over; she just knew it involved plants.

Ducking in after Caduceus was an unfamiliar figure, carrying a decent-sized, colorfully painted bench on one shoulder. The sight was rather something, because the little blue Tiefling hauling the bench around like it weighed nothing wore an oversized cream-colored sweater and bright pink skirt, grinning cheerfully. Blue hair styled sweetly and violet eyes sparkling as she took in the bar, the Tiefling turned to Caduceus and said something with obvious excitement, the Firbolg smiling back and nodding.

“Hey Cad,” Beau called as she approached the pair. “Looks like you’ve got the bench for Veth.”

“Indeed,” Caduceus drawled pleasantly. “Apologies that I didn’t get it here yesterday, but Jester wanted to finish painting it.”

“And you’re Jester?” Beau asked, turning her gaze to the Tiefling, who was still beaming.

“Yep!” Jester chirped, heavily accented voice bright and saccharine. “It’s nice to meet you. Where should I put this?”

Beau took a moment to admire the way Jester had yet to break a sweat while holding the bench before pointing behind the bar.

“That’s Veth on the stool there. You can get it set up against the counter. Need any help?”

“Nope!” Jester waved Beau’s offer away amicably. “I’ve got it!”

Beau watched Jester flounce over to the bar with more ease than Beau would have thought possible. She watched Veth blink over the bar at Jester’s enthusiastic greeting. Though Beau could only see the Halfling’s eyes, she saw the exact moment the motherly fondness took over.

“She’s my roommate,” Caduceus’ timbre drew Beau’s attention back to him. “Since you were wondering.”

Beau distinctly recalled not voicing that question out loud, but she had learned after a few conversations with the guy to not get into it. He was scarily perceptive and had a tendency to answer questions before being asked. Molly and their attempt at fortune telling could only hope to be so in tune. They had tried their hand at it a month or two ago, and while they embellished the readings enough to fool a few people, Beau saw through it entirely. She was very familiar with the way Molly kept their bullshit just vague enough to be passable.

“It’s colorful,” Beau commented, watching as Veth dragged her stool back around to the outside of the bar so Jester could set the bench down and get it into place.

“Yeah,” Caduceus agreed with a hint of pride in his tone. “She’s a great artist, you know. Paints all over the city.”

Beau took a moment to wonder why she hadn’t heard of such a famous artist before remembering that she wasn’t exactly an astute member of the art community. She shrugged and nodded in reply, finding nothing else to say. Caduceus—to his credit—didn’t seem to mind her silence and instead turned his attention to observing the rest of the bar. Beau stood with him for another few moments before making her way to Veth and Jester.

“How’s it feel?” Jester asked Veth eagerly as the Halfling climbed atop the sturdy new bench. “Do you like it?”

“It’s very nice,” Veth’s pitched voice came from behind the mask, sounding satisfied. “I can walk the length of the bar now, too.”

Peering over the bar top, Beau nodded approvingly. It was wide enough for Veth to traverse back and forth safely, but not so wide that Beau and Desmond would have to stretch uncomfortably to grab things on the counter. Caduceus had done a good job with it, and the paintings were rather detailed and unique.

“Is that flower supposed to look like a dick?” Beau asked, pointing at the curved, colorful flora painted across the top of the bench.

Jester’s delighted laughter was answer enough and Beau decided rather quickly that she liked this Jester girl. Judging from the look in Veth’s eyes, Beau figured the Halfling woman had come to the same conclusion.

“Oh! Caddy you brought it!” Molly’s voice sounded from across the bar. A glance over her shoulder showed Beau that Molly and Yasha had emerged from the door near the back that lead up to their apartment above the bar. Beau had exactly three seconds to admire Yasha’s fitted top before Molly swept up to the bar beside her and stole her attention back to the current conversation.

Molly, with elbows locked as they leaned up and over the bar top to stare delighted at the bench, grinned with glee at the Firbolg.

“This is perfect! What do I owe you for it?”

“Nothing,” Caduceus waved the query away as Molly dropped back down to the floor. “Our partnership is more than enough. I’m just glad I could help.”

Molly simpered a look at Caduceus and moved to wrap around his arm, looking like an overlarge child clinging to their parent. Beau tried and failed to hide a snort behind her hand, earning herself a middle finger from Molly.

“You’re too kind to me, Cad,” Molly said, sounding far too sincere for how childish they looked. “At least let me offer you food or drinks on the house. Aren’t ya always talkin’ about how feeding your friends is an act of love?”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” Caduceus chuckled, giving Molly a gentle pat on the back. “Though, Jester helped, too.”

Said Tiefling’s head popped up from where she had been giggling about something on the bench with Veth. Given Veth’s prickly reception of Beau and the other employees, Beau found herself a little surprised that the Halfling woman seemed so at ease with Jester already. But the blue Tiefling threw a sweet grin to Molly, and they practically melted on the spot. So Beau was seeing a pattern here.

“Do you have any pastries?” Jester asked eagerly, leaning against the counter, eyes sparkling.

“Not at all,” Molly said cheerfully, coming over to the bar to grab Jester’s hands before she could pout too much. “But you’re so positively adorable, I’ll make sure we get some just for you.”

Beau shook her head with an amused quirk of her lips as Molly lead Jester into the kitchen, the pair chatting amicably as they went. Caduceus leaned over the far end of the bar to look down at the bench and ask Veth a few more questions about how it felt, if it needed adjusting, or anything extra added on.

Elbows propped on the bar, Beau fought against a yawn and failed, ending up muffling it against her shoulder as her eyes watered with the force of it. She groaned to herself, mentally calculating how many hours she had left until she could go to sleep.

“You seem tired,” Yasha’s quiet voice spoke up from beside Beau, startling her.

“Jesus, you’re quiet,” Beau hissed, turning to look at the other woman. She spoke up again before Yasha could apologize or comment on Beau’s jumpiness, hurrying from one sentence to the next. “It’s fine, I’m always tired.”

Yasha’s eyes narrowed slightly at her, not maliciously, but still leaving Beau feeling just a little too fidgety.

“You weren’t on the schedule tonight.”

“Nah, Desmond called out for a date. I don’t mind, though. Not like I had plans,” Beau said easily, like she wasn’t fighting bone deep exhaustion after a grueling week of classes in the dojo and at school. Rolling her neck to hear it give a satisfying pop, she sighed and flicked a look at Yasha, who was still watching Beau.

“I’m behind the bar with Veth tonight,” Beau said, just to fill the quiet. She hated being stared at like that, even if it was Yasha. “So you’re on your own at the front. But let me know if you need help, yeah? I think Veth could manage on her own for a few minutes if you need me.”

Yasha opened her mouth, hesitated, closed her mouth and chewed at her lip for a brief second before just nodding. Beau watched her push off the bar and head out front, hands buried deep in the pockets of her signature jacket. She wasn’t sure what Yasha had been about to say, but it left Beau wondering with a fierce desire to chase after her and make Yasha say it. But things like that had never worked on the other woman, so Beau heaved a sigh and moved around to the back of the bar.

Something in her gut told her it would be a long night.


	4. steam and conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if this is the only productive thing i do for the week...so be it

Stifling what felt like the hundredth yawn since waking up just an hour ago, Beau trudged her way up the stairs of her university’s campus library. Her footsteps echoed heavily in the empty stairwell, and Beau tried not to wince as the reverberations assaulted her overtired senses. She hated to admit that Amber was right when she said Beau worked too much, so Beau shook herself and pushed the doors open to one of the quieter floors. The library had seven floors, and the higher one went, the quieter it was—both by circumstance and unwritten campus rules. Floor five was Beau’s favorite, and there was a secluded corner near a window she had dubbed as her official unofficial spot.

As she began winding through the mazes of shelves, Beau breathed in the musty smell of pages and wood and dirtier than it seemed carpet. Something coiled unwound in her chest and she sighed. Beau truly hated studying for her major, but there was something about the library that brought her a much-needed sense of peace.

Rounding the corner, looking forward to curling up in her corner, Beau came to an abrupt halt.

Someone was already there. And Beau really did not harbor the patience to deal with this today.

“Hey,” she said, snapping a little more than she meant to. “You’re in my spot, dude.”

The guy looked up, his eye bags impressive even to Beau, and narrowed his eyes her way. It took her a moment to place his face. But Beau recognized him as the guy who had been sitting in the corner of Molly’s bar a week and a half ago with his nose in a book for hours. He hadn’t seen her then though, as far as Beau knew, so she kept that revelation to herself. They stared each other down, both with narrowed eyes and no small degree of obvious displeasure at the interruption to respective routines.

“I was…unaware this spot was claimed,” the guy murmured after a few moments, appearing not to care about Beau’s annoyance. His accent tripped thickly through his syllables, and Beau’s natural curiosity distracted her momentarily. But she shoved it down and crossed her arms over her chest, jutting one hip sideways to appear more intimidating.

“Well, it is. So I’d appreciate it if I could have my spot back. I’ve got a massive paper to work on today.”

“As do I,” the guy countered back.

Beau huffed, figuring out rather quickly that she was more than likely going to lose this battle. Or at the very least, not gain any ground. With a huff, she looked around and spotted a chair near similar to the one already here. Beau figured that was good enough. Walking over to it, she dragged the chair across the floor and planted herself in it across from the guy. As she unpacked her bag, she noticed his eye twitch with displeasure, but he said nothing.

Smirking as she unearthed her laptop from her bag, Beau counted it as a win.

Pulling up the document for her paper killed that feeling. With a disgruntled twist of her lips, Beau settled a little more into her seat and scanned over her outline. She had already done most of the research she needed on stocks and their effect on entrepreneurial pursuits. The outline was all but complete after weeks of work. Now she just needed to flesh it out—make it sound like a paper and less like her sleep-deprived three in the morning ramblings.

She hated it, but she got to work. Beau tossed her one leg over the armrest of the chair, tucked the other under her, and balanced her laptop precariously on her lap. Now that she had made herself more comfortable, she began typing.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed before her workflow got interrupted. The guy across from her had been stretching, his arm knocking over the haphazard pile of books beside him. The tomes went tumbling noisily to the floor, drawing a quiet, panicked curse from him. Marking his page and setting aside the book he had been reading, the guy crouched to assess the damage and re-stack the books. Beau chuckled quietly at first. But then she set aside her laptop and crouched down with a groan to help—more out of nosiness than anything else.

The first book she picked up had a title in a language she couldn’t read. The second one was about the history of their world and cultures, nearly as thick as the biology textbook Beau used her freshman year. She looked up to hand the books off and found him already staring at her, his blue eyes intense and guarded.

Beau wanted to pick him apart. He had been at the bar; he was here too, and every instinct was yelling at her to find out everything she could. If he was going to frequent her haunts, she needed to know if he was worth her attention.

As she held out the books to him, Beau made a vague gesture in the form of jerking her head toward the stairs.

“Want to get a coffee? I need a break and it looks like you do, too.”

The man hesitated, and Beau made a mental note about his reservations and suspicion of her. But after a few seconds, she got a nod.

Shoving to her feet with grace, Beau saved her half finished document and tucked her things into her bag. It was between hours, which meant that not only would the line in the coffee shop likely be shorter, but their stuff would probably remain undisturbed. Swiping up her wallet, Beau shoved her hands into her pockets and waited for the guy to finish fussing over his things.

They took the stairs in silence, and it was only once they were halfway down that Beau spoke up.

“I’m Beau.”

“Caleb,” he offered in that quiet voice, casting her a sideways look.

“I’ve never seen you around campus before,” Beau said when they descended yet another flight of stairs in silence. “You new or somethin’?”

“Ah…no,” Caleb muttered, pushing open the door to the floor that had the coffee shop. Beau ducked out after him, trying to needle him into more than monosyllabic answers.

“What are you studying? Like, what’s your major?”

“Library studies,” Caleb said almost immediately, eyes lighting up as he spared Beau a glance. Bingo. “I would like to work in a research library some day, like the one in the capital.”

Beau nodded, refraining from wincing or rolling her eyes. “That’s cool, man.”

They continued on in silence from there, standing in the short line at the shop, ordering their drinks, and then waiting off on the side. It was only as they stood there, Beau fiddling absently with the zipper on her wallet, that Caleb spoke up again.

“What uh…” Beau looked his way, raising an eyebrow at him. “What are you studying?”

She was getting the sense that this guy was just as bad at talking to people as Beau was. Passing conversation and business talks were easy enough, but when it came to small talk—personal connections—Beau fumbled. Caleb seemed to do the same.

“Business,” Beau said with a weary sigh. At Caleb’s strange look, Beau shrugged and folded her arms across her chest. “Family trade.”

“You did not choose business?”

“Not willingly,” Beau muttered, scuffing her foot against the tile. “But it’s fine.”

“What uh…” Caleb hesitated again, and Beau let him. “What would you be studying if you got to pick?”

Huffing a laugh as she rubbed a hand against her neck, Beau shook her head with a shrug. “See, that’s the stupidity of it all. I don’t know.”

The barista called Beau’s name as they slid a cup onto the counter, and Caleb’s cup appeared beside her own as she approached. Beau swiped both of them up, turning to hold out Caleb’s drink to him. He took the drink with a silent nod of thanks, and they began their trip back up to their floor.

“No one has ever asked me what I wanted to study before,” Beau said, running a finger along the underside of her lid. “So I never thought about it.”

“Well,” Caleb said, sounding contemplative as he cradled his steaming cup in both hands. “There’s still time to change.”

Beau mulled over his words as they pushed the doors open to the fifth floor, the studious silence soothing something frazzled in Beau’s stomach. They wove their way through the stacks, eventually finding their sheltered corner once again, and taking up their respective chairs. Before they settled too deeply, and Beau could get lost in either her paper or Caleb’s suggestion, she reached out and tapped the cover of the foreign book.

“What language is this? I’ve never seen it.”

“Zemnian,” Caleb murmured after a moment, something flickering in his eyes. “It’s an old language from up north. Few still speak it.”

“Huh,” Beau picked up the book and leafed through a few pages, skimming the strange words curiously. “Would you teach me?”

When Caleb didn’t answer her right away, Beau looked up from the book to find him studying her. She couldn’t figure out if that light in his eyes was suspicion or excitement. But when she cocked a pierced eyebrow his way, he nodded.

“If you would like, I can.”

Beau snapped the book shut with a grin and set it back on the precarious pile between them.

“Great,” Beau said as she dug out her laptop to continue her paper. “Thanks.”

They settled into their papers, Beau’s fingers clicking away at the keys of her laptop as Caleb read across from her. The sound of pages turning was interspersed among Beau’s typing, a studious melody that put Beau strangely at ease with this near stranger. One look at him, and she knew he was a walking depiction of a complex lie. But he seemed harmless enough, and now she had him somewhat under her thumb just in case things went awry.

There was more than one way to protect her claim and her people from this stranger. She could learn from him as she kept him in line, and no one had to get hurt.

* * *

Jester waved to the tall figure at the end of the alley, the man’s hoodie pulled over his face to obscure his features. He waved back to her and disappeared around the corner, leaving Jester to finish her painting. The brick wasn’t the most forgiving of canvases, but the little Tiefling was nothing if not an expert at improvising. Sticking her tongue between her lips as she studied the expansive mural she had created, Jester swapped out her yellow paint for a charming neon blue.

Her newest piece consisted of flowers and geometric shapes, paisley patterns interwoven with humanoid anatomy, and an immaculate ratio of hidden dicks. It was _perfect_. She used the neon blue to add some drop shadow to one of her geometric patterns before nodding with satisfaction.

Another piece completed, she scooped up her favorite shade of rich blue paint and tagged the piece on the side as “the little sapphire”. Jester hummed to herself as she scooped her paints into her bag, admiring her work once more before turning to leave. Jester poked her head out of the alley, clinging to shadows to make sure the coast was clear, before scrambling onto the sidewalk. This area of Queens hardly saw any nightlife, so the foot traffic was slim to none at this time of day. It never hurt to be extra cautious, though. She had had one too many close calls with the authorities when she moved her and her artistic career here. The patrols and officers here walked a different beat than back home, so it took time to figure them out. Thankfully, Jester made a friend who helped her find her footing much faster than if she had been on her own.

As she skipped down the sidewalk, paint cans clattering in her bag, she checked her phone with a wince. Jester had promised Caduceus she would be home around midnight, but it was now going on one in the morning. He didn’t worry about her, because he knew she could take care of herself. But the lovely Firbolg always stayed up to see her home, and she hated to keep him waiting.

Picking up the pace, Jester scurried along toward the approaching intersection. She had the walk symbol still, so she could make it if she sprinted.

Jester slammed into someone’s shoulder and stumbled back a few steps with a noise of surprise.

“Sorry,” a uniquely accent voice drawled. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jester waved off the stranger’s concern. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

Jester looked up and promptly froze. A half-Orc stood before her, looking rather concerned and _very_ handsome in the dim street lighting. She stuck out one hand with a cheerful grin, watching the half-Orc blink at her in surprise at the sudden gesture.

“Hi,” she chirped. “I’m Jester. Sorry I ran in to you, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Fjord,” the half-Orc drawled, reaching out to shake her hand. “Don’t worry about it, I wasn’t either.”

“Where are you coming from, Fjord?” Jester asked, beaming as she did. The walk signal over his shoulder switched to red, and the Tiefling barely spared it a glance.

“I just got off work,” he said, giving a vague gesture over his shoulder. “Night shift. Same for you?”

“Oh, something like that,” Jester giggled as she tightened the strap of her bag. Fjord passed it a curious glance, but cordially did not question.

“You headin’ home? I’ve got a bus to catch, but I can walk ya’ wherever ya’ need to get, if you’d like.” Fjord’s eyes flit over Jester’s shoulder and she tipped her head to one side curiously.

“There’s someone who’s been starin’ at ya’ for a while now,” Fjord murmured in a lower tone. “I can walk ya’ home if you’d like.”

“Oh,” Jester cooed sweetly. “I can take care of myself, but I wouldn’t mind the company!”

Looping her arm through Fjord’s, Jester tugged him over to stand at the intersection, waiting for the walk signal to switch again. He blinked down at her, stunned, and Jester beamed back up at the half-Orc.

“So, Fjord,” Jester said as they waited. “Where do you work?”

“Oh, uh,” Fjord glanced over their shoulders and Jester tugged him along when they had the right of way. “Down at the docks in College Point. How about you?”

“I’m an artist!” Jester said, patting her bag. “I always take the latest ‘studio time’ though, so I’m usually out pretty late.” The lie came easy enough, and she added an extra cheerful grin for good measure. “I didn’t know you could work at the docks so late at night. What do you do down there?”

“Mostly just cleaning and moving supplies and equipment around. But it pays, and I’m at school most days.”

“That sounds like a lot!” Jester looked up at Fjord with wide eyes. “You must be pretty busy.”

“Sometimes, yeah,” Fjord shrugged. “But it’s not a big deal.”

“Well,” Jester said in a very matter-of-fact tone. “I think it’s pretty amazing.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Fjord rub the side of his neck and grin, seeming bashful. Jester gave herself an imaginary pat on the back for making her new friend feel good. They continued on in relative quiet for about another block and a half before Fjord spoke up again.

“Oh, that’s my bus,” Fjord said, watching as a bus groaned to a halt at the stop about half a block ahead of them. He looked down at Jester, conflicted. Jester smiled, touched by his sweet thoughtfulness. She patted his arm where it still linked with her own and gave him a nudge.

“My apartment is, like, a block from here. I’ll be okay, Fjord,” she promised.

“If yer sure,” Fjord hesitated, but unlinked their arms.

“Totally sure,” Jester shooed him off, grinning.

“Get home safe!” Fjord called over his shoulder as he dashed off. Jester waved, watching as he just barely swung himself through the doors of the bus in time. Giggling, she clasped her hands behind her back and turned to the figure that had followed them all this way. As the hooded figure approach at a leisurely stroll, Jester exaggerated a pout of her lips.

“I thought you went home,” she said. “You scared him, Traveller.”

“Well,” the Traveller drawled beneath his hood. “I had to make sure my favorite student got home safe. And I wanted to test that lad’s character.”

“He seemed _really_ nice,” Jester gushed as the pair headed for her apartment. “I think you’d like him a lot.”

“I don’t doubt it,” the Traveller chuckled. They stopped in front of Jester’s building and he reached out a slender hand to pat her once on the head. “Sleep well, Jester.”

Jester waved as the Traveller left, pulling her keys from her pocket and prancing up the stairs to her apartment. Pushing open the door into the colorful, homey space, Jester found Caduceus sitting up on the sofa, a blanket over his legs and two steaming mugs on the coffee table. He smiled sleepily at her when she walked in, offering a greeting through a yawn.

“Oh Caduceus,” Jester said, guilt bubbling in her chest. She had forgotten her haste to get home after bumping into Fjord. “I’m so sorry I’m back so late.”

“No trouble at all,” he reassured her with ease. “I made cocoa.”

“Caduceus!” Jester squealed, dropping her bag inside the door and bounding over to curl up on the sofa beside him. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Caduceus chuckled and shared his blanket with her, handing over a cup as well. The Firbolg pat her knee as they settled into the sofa together, content.

* * *

The keys fumbled from her sore fingers and clattered noisily to the ground, knocking against the door as they did. Yasha winced and bent slowly to pick them up, every smarting wound and bruise screaming with protest. She had barely straightened up again when the door’s lock clicked from the inside and flung open. Molly stood framed in the doorway, red eyes wide as they swept a look up and down Yasha’s form.

Something in Yasha’s chest broke a little when their tail drooped behind them with disappointment.

Molly reached out a careful hand, icy fingers circling Yasha’s wrist and tugging her into the warm interior of their apartment.

“Go take a shower, dear,” Molly instructed. “I’ll meet you out here with the first aid kit after.”

Lacking the energy to argue, Yasha trudged off to the bathroom, her guilt a heavy weight on her chest.

A painful fifteen minutes later, after watching the water run from red to pink to clear in the shower, Yasha sat sideways on the sofa. Molly perched in front of her, dabbing antiseptic with clumsy care over her bruised, split knuckles. They didn’t ask questions, but Yasha could sense the inquiries bubbling beneath Molly’s calm facade. A game show played quietly on the television across from them, the screen illuminating the living room with strange color and shadow.

Yasha broke first.

“It’s not what you think,” she murmured, tracking Molly’s fingers as they applied a bandage to Yasha’s bruised wrist.

“Then what was the reason this time?” They asked without malice, but the question still stung.

“We weren’t going to make rent at the end of the week,” Yasha whispered. With her free hand, she pulled a wad of cash from her pocket, dropping it on the coffee table. “That’s the only reason, I promise.”

Molly’s shoulders deflated, and they finally looked up at Yasha, solid eyes sad.

“Yasha, my love,” Molly sighed, not even sparing the money a glance. “You do realize that rent is a shared responsibility, right? It’s not your job to support us both. I could have made sure we were covered.”

“That would have affected the bar and you know it,” Yasha countered, flexing and curling her fingers to test the sturdiness of the bandages. Molly watched the motion with silent attention, lighting nerves on fire in Yasha. It was rarely good when Molly was quiet.

“Maybe it would have,” Molly agreed, looking back up at the Aasimar. Regret and sadness lined the skin around their eyes, and Yasha hated herself a little more for putting that there.

“But I hate to see you like this, Yasha.” Molly reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing gently. “It makes me nervous and scared for you. I know you can handle yourself, but even still.”

“It was just one night, Molly,” Yasha reassured them, managing a tiny smile. She wasn’t sure it fooled her friend, but Yasha pushed forward regardless. “Just one night to make sure ends meet. Nothing more.”

Molly bit their lower lip between their teeth, nervousness still plain on their face, but Yasha smiled and pushed to her feet.

“I’m going to get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?”

Molly nodded near imperceptibly, watching Yasha round the couch before calling out a quiet, “Yasha.”

The Aasimar turned, watching as Molly pushed up to their knees and leaned over the back of the sofa to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead. Their lips were cold and slightly chapped, but the warm gesture softened the frazzled edges of Yasha’s nerves. She hugged Molly as tight as her bruises would allow over the back of the sofa before heading off to her room. Not bothering to get beneath her blankets, Yasha stretched out on her bed and stared at the picture on her bedside table. Her apologies to both Molly and the photo were silent and ringing with guilt as Yasha slipped into painful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on tumblr at beauregardlionett.tumblr.com for snippets, sneak peaks, and answers to whatever questions you have


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